Out of Sight - Conclusion
by Devon King
Summary: One kidnapped heiress with three determined friends.


A short story based on characters created by Dick Clair and Jenna McMahon.

DISCLAIMER: The characters described herein are the property of Columbia Pictures Television. This is a work of fan fiction and there is no intention to profit from the use of these characters.

TIMELINE: Season Seven. Jo and Blair are juniors at Langley. Natalie is out of school. Tootie is a senior at Eastland.

RATING: PG13. Adult themes and violence.

***************

Sections Six through Ten (The Conclusion)

OUT OF SIGHT

By Devon King

The brunette approached from the opposite side of the street and waited as the news crews returned to their trucks. Finally, there was only one reporter with the girl. That was when Natalie strolled up.

"Hey, Jo." The girl smiled.

"Hey, Nat," Jo responded. Green eyes shifted toward the new arrival. "Mrs. G. send you out here?"

"Yup," Natalie replied as she zipped up her coat a little further. 

"She say anything?"

"She doesn't want us to get arrested."

"I can work with that." 

The reported had left and Boots was making her way toward her BMW when the two girls caught up with her.

Natalie couldn't believe her ears when St. Claire tried to wheedle herself out of the jam. Jo had just called her on every snide utterance she had made on the air. 

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about," she sputtered. The girl's eyes darted about hoping that a reporter might be close enough to rescue her.

Jo smiled and stepped right up to the preppie. She reached up and dusted some imaginary lint off the shoulder of the green blazer Boots wore and looked the prissy sorority girl in the eyes. 

"I'm talking about your new career as 'Warnsey's Best Friend,'" she growled and notched the air with her fingers, mocking Boots' signature air-quotation style. 

"It's a load of garbage. You couldn't care less about Blair," she waved a hand toward the gathered media vans. "You're so pathetic that you'd use a kidnapping to get yourself in the spotlight." 

Miss St. Claire gifted the brunette with her best condescending look. "Now, Jo, you misunderstand, I was merely ..." she babbled on for a minute describing the kinship she felt with Blair and how she was sincerely worried about her.

Natalie shook her head and turned away from the superficial patter. For a few moments, the redhead studied the toes of her sneakers and tried to ignore the prattle. Boots wasn't smart enough to quit while she was ahead, that much was obvious.

Meanwhile, Jo folded her arms and listened. One slim brow arched slightly, as her eyes took on a somewhat sinister gleam. "I understand perfectly and I want you to understand something, too. You just gave your farewell performance."

"Pardon moi?"

"Your days of character assassination while you pretend to be a grieving pal are through. Game over. The end."

Boots mouth pursed as she considered what she was being told. Jo cocked her head and poised her index finger just inches away from the girl's nose.

"If you open your mouth -- just once more -- to a news crew, to a tabloid or to someone just carrying a pencil -- I am going to stomp your backstabbing butt into your penny loafers," she said very deliberately. "Did I make myself clear?"

"Is that a threat, Jo Polniaczak?" She accented the last syllable in a cocky manner.

"No, Boots. It's a promise," Jo warned. 

Natalie's eyes widened at her friend's bold maneuver. Wow! The writer imagined the snooty gamma gamma gamma being laid to rest in a size seven shoe box and giggled. What a saving on funeral costs!

As the preppie scurried away, the auburn haired girl slapped her friend from the Bronx on the back. "Good one, Jo!" she grinned. "For a second there I thought you were going to use a different finger to make your point -- but I suppose discretion won out!" she blurted. "That was great!"

"Yeah, well, I just hope it worked." She scratched the back of her head and cast a glance at the reporters. "So much for keeping things quiet," she sighed.

*****************  
Young Dorothy Ramsey stretched up to snare the juice glasses. "Eighteen million dollars," she said in an awe struck voice. "For Pete's sake, the new student center at Langley only cost four million!" 

"Yeah," agreed Natalie. "I knew the Warners were rich, but I had no idea they were that disgustingly, outrageously wealthy."

"Maybe they aren't," offered Jo. "Could be that this guy is just a greedy slimeball. He got fifteen mil for some Duchess in Amsterdam two years ago."

Tootie raised her head. "Blair's worth more than a Duchess?" She put a hand on her hip. "Once she finds that out -- we're never going to hear the end of it," she quipped. 

Natalie laughed out loud at her friend's observation. "Once and for all, she know the dollar and cent amount of how much better she is than the rest of us!" The redhead faked shivering. "That is such a scary thought!"

"You should see the file they've got going on this Arthur Grey," Jo explained as she shook her cornflakes into a bowl. She held her thumb and index fingers about three inches apart. "It's huge!"

"So he's a real guy, then?" asked Tootie as she poured the orange juice.

Jo stowed her cereal back in the cupboard and brought her bowl to the table. "He's real all right, Tootie. Real bad news," she admitted grimly.

"But he's just after the money, right?" asked Natalie. She pulled the last piece of bread from the toaster, dropped it on a plate and waved her fingers to cool them. "He gets his ransom and its over. Right, Jo?"

Jo ducked the question and waved a carton back and forth. "Anyone else need milk?"

Natalie placed the stack of toast on the table. "Jo?" she badgered.

"Do not hold out on us," Tootie ordered sternly. The college student considered the faces of her friends. She put her spoon down.

"The FBI want him in connection with at least four murders," she answered. "Authorities in Europe have warrants for his arrest as well."

"Oh, Lord," Tootie gasped as Natalie sank slowly into her chair.

"How long have you known this?" demanded Nat. Jo rubbed a hand over her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Since the interviews at the police station. Look, David asked me to keep it quiet until he had a chance to talk to Monica," she admitted. "I'm sorry, but that's what he wanted."

She picked at the corner of the placemat. "They've got agents and police departments all over the country searching. I'm sure they'll find them," she asserted with forced confidence.

Natalie scowled. "Right. The Feeds are scouring five metropolitan cities in five different directions." She shoved herself away from the table. "Well, hey! I bet Blair's home for supper!" she said callously.

Jo ground her teeth together. "Watch it, Nat," she warned. She was not in a mood to play 'who knew what and when' with the girl.

Tootie stood up and waved her hands. "Guys, guys!" she insisted. "Cool it!"

Jo leaned over her cereal again and took a sip of her orange juice. Natalie frowned as she rethought her last comment. Me and my big mouth, she thought regretfully.

Natalie tucked a strand of auburn hair behind an ear. She raised her chin. "Jo..." she began.

"It's okay, Nat. I'm frustrated, too." The brunette admitted with a slight shrug.

Natalie relaxed, grateful that she had been let off the hook. "I just wish there was something we could do," the reporter admitted. Her friends nodded in silent agreement.

"I've been thinking about all those different places," said Tootie. She tapped the table with her knife as she named them. "Texas, Florida, California, Illinois and Colorado. It's like they threw darts at a map."

"About the only place they aren't looking is on the moon!" she exclaimed.   
The Eastland student put down her utensils and crossed her forearms on the table. She narrowed her eyes as an idea occurred to her. 

"If they wanted out of the country, you can't get much quicker or easier than La Guardia," she reported with a shake of her head. "But that isn't on the list."

"There's somewhere else they aren't looking. Peekskill. I bet they're still in New York. Maybe even still in town," she asserted. 

"Tootie," Jo said gently, "The state police and the Peekskill P.D. were all over this city."

"I know that," she replied patiently. "You know what makes a good magician? The ability to get your audience to watch something way over here," she stretched across the table and fluttered her fingers against the surface. Jo and Natalie followed her movements.

"... while the trick happens right under their noses!"

Natalie jumped when Tootie's fingers snapped right under her chin. 

The reporter caught her breath. "Thank you, David Copperfield!" she muttered.

******************

The FBI agents ushered Mr. Warner into the office that had become the base of operations at the Peekskill Police Station. A wall of computers had been assembled along two folding tables, their screens blinking, awaiting prompts from their operators. 

Five agents monitored the units while the sixth, a heavy set fellow in his twenties, delivered instructions via headset to other operatives. Wires trailed into the building through a modified window and were assembled and coded at a grid-like service panel. 

It looked like mission control at NASA. "What is all this?" he asked as he glanced at his watch. In one hour and thirty minutes, he was to be at a Manhattan bank following Grey's instructions to deliver the ransom to a bank outside the United States.

Agent Romano scooted his office chair around the edge of the desk from where he kept track of the proceedings on his laptop computer. "This is how we're going to catch a kidnapper," he pledged. 

He pulled a chair around and offered it to Warner. The businessman accepted the seat and waited for the agent to explain himself.

"Grey has been able to elude the authorities in Europe because he's been taking advantage of electronic transfers. Money rarely changes hands anymore -- its all about data and authorization." 

Romano turned his laptop about and showed the glowing screen to Warner. He pointed to an icon at the top of the screen. 

"You initiate a transfer from your accounts to a offshore account of Grey's -- but as soon as the money arrives -- it's transferred again and again." The agent snapped his fingers rapidly to make his point.

"He's had a beautiful system in place. A backdoor that operates like a cascade shuffling the trail until there's nothing left to follow," he said.

"And now?" Warner asked.

"It's time to shut the door on Mr. Grey's enterprise," he answered confidently. "And get your daughter back."

****************

Natalie prowled through the back hallway of The Register. Try as she might, she just couldn't seem to shake Tootie's theory from her mind. 

It was in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Three days and three nights had passed since Blair had been taken. 

She was a little late getting to the newspaper office this morning and she hoped that Wendell and Harvey would understand. She hadn't been to the cannery since Tuesday but she had been keeping up her duties at the paper.

She opened the metal door and blinked at the cold. The paper carriers were assembling at the loading dock. She grabbed her clipboard and scanned it. Gary McKay's papers were already out of the count. 

Natalie shook her head and marveled at the kid's enthusiasm and drive.   
The map of Peekskill with the multicolor routes outlined caught her attention. One of their papers went to nearly every house, on every street, in the town.

That's a lot of territory, she thought. Natalie rattled the clipboard against her leg. 

What's the worst that could happen? she wondered. The media already had the story. She glanced at the ever growing number of paper carriers. 

I wouldn't be asking them to do anything out of the ordinary, just to pay attention and let me know if they see anything, she reasoned. 

The girl rolled her eyes. What am I doing? she thought. It's harebrained. It's a complete shot in the dark. It's stupid and it'll probably get me fired, she decided.

Natalie stepped out on the dock and clapped a hand against her clipboard. "Could I have your attention for just a minute?" she announced in a loud voice. The carriers stopped milling about and quieted down.

"Thanks!" she smiled. "I need your help ..."

****************

Jo turned on the porch light and ran a hand through her dark hair. The stress of the past four days pressed relentlessly against their hopes. Mrs. Garrett had turned in early. 

News crews, police, Blair's mother and father, and what seemed like hundreds of phone calls had taken a toll on them all. Even the vivacious Mrs. G had worried herself to exhaustion. 

Nat had reluctantly returned to her late shift at the cannery while Jeff had insisted on getting Tootie out of the house for a while. 

The house was quiet as the college student dropped to one knee on the hearth. She opened the firescreen and added a log to the embers. The dry wood crackled as it caught fire, the hues of the flames dancing against the sooty blackness of the firewall.

She dusted her hands off, closed the screen and rested there on the edge of the brick ledge, studying the patterns in the blaze. 

Just above her head hung five Christmas stockings. As Tootie explained it, they were "identically unique." Only Tootie could use a nonsensical phrase like that and get away with it, Jo decided as she tilted her head up and marveled at Edna's handiwork.

All were cut from the same pattern and stitched by the same hand, but that was where the similarities ended. 

Jo's was navy with white and silver trim, her name embroidered boldly down its middle. A manhattan skyline was outlined in the dark fabric, the windows glowing white. The front fork and wheel of a motorcycle contrasted in silver thread along the bottom of the sock. 

Tootie's was predominately red and her name had been sewn on in tiny round golden buttons, as if it appeared on a theater marquee. The trim was made up of embroidered reproductions of tickets bearing names like "South Pacific" and "The Wiz." It was bright, it was cheery and it was totally appropriate for its owner.

The house was as familiar with Hanukkah as it was Christmas, thanks to Natalie Green. She included her friends in her observance of the festival of lights and they, in turn, made sure the bubbly reporter had a stocking full of treats hanging from the mantle.

Natalie's deep forest green stocking had a band appliquéed across its top that resembled a shelf full of books. The letters that made up her name were crafted in bold block letters on white squares that scattered their way down the front of the article. They looked as if they had just been tugged from a typewriter.

The rich crimson one with the golden accents belonged to Blair. The oval of an artist's pallet was sewn to the stocking, a embroidered brush cocked across it at an angle. Small dollops of paint were depicted by patches cut from a variety of colorful fabrics in jeweled tones. A metallic gold thread sketched out the girl's name in the style she used to sign her paintings.

Mrs. Garrett's stocking was a cheery traditional red with her first name spelled out in white. Jo smiled as she remembered how Mrs. G. described her creation. 

"Bits and memories, memories and bits," she had said as she completed the stitching on the seams. Her choice had been to include a patchwork top, heel and toe designed in the crazy quilt style. 

It was beautiful. It was the story of her life. 

Snippets from her son's baby blankets were there on top. A strip of cloth from her Peace Corp. days trailed along the bottom. Lace from her wedding gown rested over a square from her nursing uniform. Bright checks and patterns showed up from her childhood in Appleton.

The filigree from her food shop apron shared space with a glorious jumble of fabrics that mixed, entertwined and somehow made sense. 

The slice of pale blue oxford cloth came from Natalie's Eastland uniform. Tootie's bright yellow jumpsuit from her roller skating days was represented, too. Red silk from Blair's homecoming gown shined amid the stitches while a patch of much worn denim designated Jo's section.

As much as the girls adored their own stockings, to be included on Mrs. Garrett's was the loveliest gift of all.

**************

The lights on the tree twinkled gently as Jo settled down in a chair by the hearth. She raised a hand and massaged the knot of tension that had balled up between her shoulders.

Her thoughts drifted to her ski trip with her roommate. We would've been leaving tomorrow, she thought. Right about now Blair would be lecturing me on how and what to pack, she smiled. 

She had dreaded making the call to cancel their tickets and had avoided it until late this afternoon just prior to having dinner with her Mother.

It wasn't quite the celebration we had planned, she noted with some remorse. At least she loved her present, she thought proudly. Rose Polniaczek had checked in daily since her daughter had called with the news. 

A shadow moved past the French doors, jostling a patio chair and knocking it over. Jo leapt to her feet as her eyes caught the movement.

"Damn reporters!" she grumbled as she hastily opened the door and stepped outside to face them.

"Look, you, I don't know what else you think ..." she stopped her tirade and looked down. A small framed boy looked up at her through his glasses.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "Thought you were someone else," she smiled. The child nodded and wiped at his nose with a mitten. He grinned and put his hands in his pockets.

"Is Natalie Green home, please?" he asked politely. 

Jo shook her head. "No, she's at work right now," she shivered in the chilly night air. "How about you come in and get warm and we'll leave a message for her?"

Gary McKay's little face scrunched up as he considered the offer. "That'll be fine," he decided as she stepped into the light and warmth of the house.

The two exchanged names as Jo led the child over to the fireplace. "So you and Nat work together at the Register, huh?" she asked, wondering what would have the little fellow out so late.

He nodded and pulled off a mitten with his teeth. "Yeah. I was already running my route this morning when she came in with her big announcement," he explained. Jo sat down on the hearth, nodded and waited on the details.

"A couple of the other carriers told me about it when I saw them at Spinnerz tonight. That's when I knew I had to find her and tell her," he added brightly. 

"Tell her what?" Natalie, what did you do? she wondered.

"I saw the van she's looking for," he smiled. 

Jo reached out and grabbed his forearm. She looked at him intently. "You mean the navy van with the dark windows?" she asked cautiously. 

The carrier's head bobbed excitedly. "Yeah!"

"When did you see it?"

"Two days ago, I nearly ran into the stupid thing," he answered with exasperation. Jo released her hold on the boy and crossed to the closet where she removed her jacket and motorcycle helmet.

The brunette's adrenaline was pumping, her mind working over the possibility that the kid was right. She paused at the foot of the stairs and laid a hand on the newel post.

She looked up towards Mrs. Garrett's bedroom. The practical beauty decided against raising everyone's hopes. 

"Can you show me where?" she asked.

*****************

Jo turned off her motorcycle and pushed the bike quietly into the cover of the evergreens. This has got to be it, she thought as she stared up at the tall Victorian house. She hung her helmet on the handlebars and pulled her ponytail through the back of the ballcap she had brought along.

"What are you gonna do?" Gary asked as he rolled along beside her on his bicycle. His eyes looked as large as saucers behind those chunky glasses. 

"I'm going to have a look around," she replied. The little guy had led her to the old Baker place in record time. Through back lots, alleys, one creek and at least five people's yards, she smiled.

His foot jabbed at the bike's kickstand. "Cool! Can I help?" 

"Yes, but only if you can handle a very important job," she said. The pom-pom on top of his toboggan shook furiously as he nodded.

"Great! Go to the police station and wait for me. If I'm not there in thirty minutes, you need to get them to send a squad car and an ambulance to this address, okay?" 

Gary's round face scrunched up. That wasn't what he had in mind and it showed.

Jo knelt down beside the bicycle. "Listen, you're my backup. I'm counting on you," she said. "Can you handle it?"

The boy cocked his head. "So we're partners? Like Crockett and Tubbs?" he asked excitedly.

The brunette doubted that the cops from Miami Vice would mind the comparison. "Just like 'em. So get a move on and be careful!" she instructed. 

With a bright grin, the carrier switched on his headlight and began pedaling toward the stationhouse. 

Jo watched him until he turned the corner. Time to get with it, she decided as she returned to her bike.

Baker Manor was a desolate place and stood way off the road at the end of the lane. Luckily, the moon was bright enough to illuminate the grounds pretty well but she slid a flashlight into her pocket just in case. Not wanting to break into the wrong place, the brunette backtracked along the route the paperboy had indicated. 

Her sneakers crunched in the frozen grass as she followed the edge of the property back to the garage the kid had mentioned. She could just make out the narrow path the boy used to cut time off his route. 

The brunette got her bearings and imagined the carrier dashing through the cut to nearly run over a van parked somewhere around ... here. She turned on the narrow beam of her flashlight and swept the ground. 

There! There's the tire tracks still visible on the frosted ground. Way to go, Gary! she grinned. Okay, now I need a way in and it doesn't have to be the front door.

The girl made a quick appraisal of the exterior of the house. It appeared completely deserted. The front door and rear doors were chained with heavy locks and wrought iron scrollwork covered the windows on the first floor. 

Jo jumped down off the front porch and made her way back to the back yard.  
She smiled and looked up. The dark house loomed above her. The windows to the first floor were at least twelve feet off the ground. 

It was a good bet that the second story panes topped out at twenty-four feet or so. But then again, no bars on those. She really liked the look of that rose trellis that extended up the back wall of the building. 

In it's day it had been quite ornate. It was wide, began at the foundation and went up along the blocks to the eaves of the home. Along it's route it wrapped around three windows. 

The brunette walked over and gave the antique construction a pull. It didn't budge. She reached up with both hands and lifted herself off the ground. It creaked a little but held fast to its anchors in the masonry. Letting go, she dropped back to the cold earth.

Jo studied the path she would need to get to an unbarred window. Not good, but not impossible, she smirked. She tilted her head back even farther and considered the smaller third floor. Her stomach did a flip-flop. I'll tunnel my way in first, she decided. 

Something seemed out of place to her as she considered the old fashioned windows. The ground floor had bars, the second floor had none -- so why board up the third floor's windows from the inside? she wondered.

Guess I'll just have to find out, she decided as she trotted back to her bike for some tools.  
  
**************

Jo hooked her elbow around the trellis and slid the crowbar between the window and its frame. 

The window had been painted shut. Terrific, she thought as she gritted her teeth and pounded the flat end of the tool hoping to break through the seal. Slowly, she worked the wedge back and forth and got it into place. 

She took a breath and rested. I really hope I can do this before that kid gets back with the police. It's going to be kinda tough to explain if it turns out we're wrong, she conceded.

She forced the bar down and the lever pried open the window. She climbed up another rung and shoved the glass up as high as it would go. A grateful breath escaped the brunette when it stuck in place.

The former Young Diablo tucked the tool inside her jacket and pulled herself inside the building.

********************

The inside of the old house was cool and forbidding. However, it did feel better than the outdoors to the young woman who cautiously walked the hallways. 

Jo switched on her flashlight and trained it down the corridor. The breeze from the open window had millions of dust particles circulating in the musty air. They danced in the light as she explored the second floor.

Her eyebrows raised as she looked around the place. The Bakers must have been extremely well-to-do, Jo decided. The tables and chairs were draped in sheets but the high ceilings and the intricate woodwork bespoke a grandeur of days gone by.

The light fixtures seemed to have hand blown glass globes and each doorway had a stained glass transom above it.

She stumbled across the narrow stairway that led to the third floor and crept up the dark passage.

*****************  
The paper carrier pulled off his woolen cap and rubbed a hand through his hair. His short cropped blonde hair stood on end. He adjusted his glasses and peered at the man in the uniform.

"Look, kid, is it an emergency?" The desk sergeant asked pointedly. He had been trying to get a straight story out of the little visitor since he arrived at the station some time ago.

Gary looked over at the large black and white clock that hung over the city map. There were still fifteen minutes to go. "No sir, not yet," he answered crisply.

The sergeant pinched his forehead where he felt the formation of a tension headache. What a night, he thought to himself. 

The kid ain't hurt. He ain't lost and he ain't even hungry. He squinted at the boy who had made himself comfortable in a seat along the front wall of the station. 

The man looked up as yet another stack of paper was handed to him to process. The child had turned down a chocolate bar. That just isn't normal, he decided as he flicked through the reports.

**********

At the top of the stairs, the brunette was confronted with an unusual sight. Three doors opened off the small sitting room. Two of which were completely unremarkable, but the third had been modified.

Someone had taken the time and effort to affix U-bolts to the heavy wooden door at its top and bottom. The sturdy loops of metal held two-by-fours that extended across the door, the frame and several inches to either side. 

It wasn't very high tech -- but it was effective.

Someone in the sitting room could just slide the lumber aside and then open the door into the room beyond. If you were on the inside, however, you would need a chainsaw to get out. 

The hope the girl carried magnified itself into excitement. 

She stumbled around a table and some chairs, her mind barely registering the fact that they were the only uncovered items she had encountered so far. The light she carried reflected off the marble top of the table. No dust at all on its surface. 

Her sneakers shredded something that lay discarded on the floor. Irritated, she flashed the beam on the crumpled item. It was a newspaper. The date read December 19, 1986. 

She blinked in surprise. Yesterday! They were here yesterday! Her gaze flicked toward that obstructed door.

Jo jumped to her feet and sped to the barricade. She shut off her flashlight and looked up. A soft light was glowing in the leaded glass transom. 

The lumber that criss-crossed the door provided an excellent ladder and she climbed it hurriedly. She nudged open the pivoting stained glass transom and looked down into the small room on the other side. 

*************  
There, in the center of the room, sat a chair. It's occupant's face was downcast but the pale light cast from a couple of old fashioned oil lamps revealed just enough. Jo saw shadows of familiar features and the glint of sun gold hair.

"Blair!" she cried as she jumped down and knocked the two-by-fours from the metal notches. They fell with a clatter as she shoved the door open and burst into the room.

And stopped.

What if ...? 

"Hey, can you hear me? It's Jo." She hesitated the briefest of moments and then pushed through her fear. The brunette knelt down and touched a hand to her friend's throat.

She could feel the steady thump of the socialite's heart. The brunette offered her thanks, the prayer earnest and heartfelt as she quickly untied the strip of cloth that had been used to gag her friend.

What did they do to you? she wondered.

"Blair? Come on, I need you to open your eyes. You can do it," she whispered as she gently brushed the girl's bangs away from her forehead. No response. Thankfully, her pulse seemed strong. 

Jo eased Blair back against the chair to take the tension off the restraints.   
The golden head slumped forward as Jo released the buckles on the tethers that held Blair's hands and forearms. Then she knelt and cut the tape that held her friend's ankles to the chair. "I know what you're thinking," she said conversationally as she tended to the task at hand. 

"You're thinking, 'What am I gonna do with her? The hoodlum is still carrying a knife in her pocket!' Well, this time it's coming in handy so you'll just have to lecture me on lady-like behavior some other time, okay?" 

She transferred the unconscious form to the floor and cradled her across her lap. "Okay, paramedics should be here any time now," she mentioned as she glanced about the room. 

Any time at all. Jo had faith in the spunky little paper carrier. He'd handle it.  
However, waiting was never one of the brunette's strong suits.

"You know what? Right now, I'd settle for a cop. It's the truth, they're never around when you need them," she said to her unconscious friend.

She studied Blair's face, seeing the bruises for the first time and noticing the gash that disappeared into the girl's hairline. It didn't take a medical degree to see that the girl had been beaten. The dark swath along her left cheekbone matched up with a cut lip. 

"I guess I should'a brought some doughnuts, huh?" she joked, she rocked a bit in an comforting manner. "You know cops and doughnuts, they'd be breaking down the doors by now." 

The captive's blouse was streaked with grime and her cuffs were rusty. One sleeve had been rolled up above her elbow, a fact that only heightened the brunette's anxiety. It was the sort of thing you would do before an injection.

She had been drugged. That had to be it. But why? What was the point?

Jo gently inspected Blair's wrists to find that she had rubbed them raw, straining at her bonds. Wincing in sympathy, the tough kid from the Bronx felt her throat constrict. She gave her friend a gentle shake. Nothing.

She took one still hand in her own and squeezed. "Blair. Listen to me. This is no time to be lazy. I need you to wake up," she admonished the still form. "I know you're in there and I know you've been through a lot -- but you made it. Don't you dare quit now," she pleaded. 

"Dammit, Warner, wake up!"

Blair's shoulders flexed and she pushed away from the hands that held her. Her coppery brows were knitted together in a grimace as she worked her way toward consciousness. 

"That's it, come on, you can do it!" Jo encouraged even as her friend's eyes opened and she found herself battling a very disoriented Warner. 

"Get off of me!" she screamed. Blair struck out blindly at the grasp she found herself within. The blonde landed several firm blows as her friend struggled to restrain her.

"Blair!" Jo dodged another fist. "Blair! It's me!" The attack stopped as suddenly as it began. 

Frightened brown eyes met a serious green gaze. "Jo?" She asked quietly as a trembling hand reached to grip her friend by the shoulder. It was a gesture to reassure herself this wasn't an illusion.

"Who else?" her roommate responded with a smirk. 

The debutante smiled and felt herself pulled into a strong hug. Her thin frame shuddered and the reign she had held on her emotions faltered. Embarrassed, she pulled away.

"Sorry," she blurted as she wiped at her eyes with the back of a hand. Jo frowned and kept a steadying hand on Blair's arm.

"Blair?"

"Jo, please. I can't... not now," she said adamantly. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and looked up at her friend through the fringe of her bangs. "Let's just get out of here."

"You got it." 

**********  
Jo turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and herded Blair toward the still opened window.

"There you go, almost home now..." The brunette cajoled. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

Blair rubbed at her eyes. Why do my arms and legs feel so heavy? she wondered. All she wanted to do was go to sleep. 

The blonde was still disoriented and that worried her friend. Several times she had wobbled on her feet, only to have Jo steady her and force her into conversation to stay awake. 

"Blair!" Jo moved around to face her friend. She gripped her hard by the shoulders and gave her a little shake to rouse her. "For years you've griped that I never want to talk, never want to chat. Okay, you got it. Here we go... six years worth. So, Warner, tell me, when was the last time you ate?"

The blonde frowned, shrugged off Jo's support and tried to focus her thoughts. "Ah, I think... um, it was a couple of days ago." She leaned against the window sill. 

"No wonder you're so shaky," Jo commented in passing. "How're you feeling? Everything in working order?"

"I think so. I feel kinda weird though," she raised a hand to lift her hair away from her face, gathered it loosely and pushed it over her shoulder.

"Weird how?" Jo leaned out the window and looked down.

"Like my brain is operating on a ten second delay."

Jo's head and shoulders reappeared in the room. "That's sounds normal -- get back to the weird part," she grinned, pleased with her wisecrack.

"Ha." The blonde smirked in response. "Look, I may be groggy but I'm not so far out of it that I can't tell a door from a window," she indicated the opening. "So tell me, Nancy Drew, girl detective, why can't we use the door?"

"Because somebody went to a whole lot of trouble to plan this thing and there's a ton of money involved so I can't believe they'd just let us waltz out the front door..."

"... and this is how you broke in, right?"

Jo adjusted her ballcap and cleared her throat. ".. ah, that, too. It worked just fine the first time," she admitted with a slight shrug. "Besides, the doors are chained and padlocked from the outside."

Blair ducked under the raised window and peered down. She could just make out the outline of cinder blocks on the ground and what appeared to be an old trellis winding its way up the side of the house. She frowned but said nothing.

"It's a lot easier than it looks," Jo offered as Blair looked at her skeptically. "Really."

"Jo, I'd leap off a mountain to get out of this place. Piece of quiche," the blonde deadpanned. She swallowed hard and leaned against the window frame. "Just tell me where to land."

Jo grinned. "That's the way, Warner!" She straddled the window ledge, angling her head away from the raised pane and explained the technique for climbing down. "First we get outta here, then we get the bad guys," she rubbed her hands together excitedly, obviously relishing the thoughts.

Blair's stomach was beginning to react to the dizziness she felt. "As plans go ... I adore it. Let's go home."

**************

Jo released her hold on the trellis and jumped the last of the distance to the ground. She dusted her hands off on her jeans. "Okay, good. That's the way, you got it, keep coming," she called to her friend who was halfway through her own descent.

The trellis swayed, pulling away from the building. Blair clenched her teeth and reached for one of the rough stones that made up the exterior of the old home. There was precious little to grab onto but she was able to steady herself and stop the slow rock of the frame. 

She took a breath and let it out slowly through her mouth. I don't believe this, she thought as her stomach rolled.

Jo peered up toward the motionless figure. "Everything okay up there?" She looked around again for signs of the police, scowling into the darkness when she didn't find any.

Blair was on the move again. A cautious step downward was followed by another. She paused, took another breath, and then lowered herself to within a few feet of the ground where her friend waited with upraised hands to help.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Jo kidded as she tugged at Blair's pantleg to let her friend know she had nearly made it. "Admit it. You're really a cat burglar. That's how you guys get all your money!" 

Getting a grunt in response, she continued as the blonde approached the ground. "Okay, last step. Well, you should know, your secret's safe with me. I promise not to tell anyone... until I see them," she joked, chuckling quietly to herself.

Blair was never so grateful to be on solid ground in her life. Unfortunately, the spinning sensation that began with the climb hadn't gone away. She turned away from the wall and took an awkward step that bumped her into her friend. 

Jo slipped an arm around her back and Blair grabbed a handful of the brunette's leather jacket to steady herself. "Okay, you win. I'll take your cat burglar secret to my grave," she crossed her heart with a smooth motion, all the while trying to get a rise from her friend. 

The duo made silent progress toward the motorcycle parked beneath the fir trees. Blair's eyes were downcast as she concentrated on each step. 

"Hey, Blair?" Jo frowned as the hand that had gripped her arm now pushed her away as the socialite sank to her knees. "What's wrong?!"

"S-s-sick," she answered as her teeth began to chatter. Jo knelt beside her and quickly wrapped her warm brown leather bomber around the blonde's slim shoulders. She frantically scanned the street again for help and then looked sorrowfully at her bike. I should'a brought Mrs. G's bug, she decided with a frustrated shake of her head. What was I thinking? 

Blair whispered something and Jo leaned her head closer to hear.

"What? Say that again?" She listened and then laughed softly. "Yeah, I just figured that out. You're not up to a motorcycle ride, are ya?" Blair groaned and leaned forward onto her outstretched hands.

"Didn't think so," replied the brunette in the Yankee cap. She looked up the street, green eyes zeroing in on the first house with lights. "Okay, new plan. I make a phone call and we get some help." She stood up. "I'm warning you, Warner, no napping while I'm gone."

Blair raised her head and eased back onto her heels. "Y-y-yes, drill s-sergeant Polniac-c-czek," she answered in the most chipper tone she could muster. She gathered the jacket closer as the wind picked up. 

"Jo?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," she said with the barest hint of a smile. "Be careful, okay?"

"Back in a flash," emphasized Jo as she took off in a jog across the frozen ground.

********

The small village of gnomes was decorated for winter. Each tiny member of the forest folk had a different job. Some carried presents, others decorated tiny trees. They were proudly displayed along the sidewalk though Jo barely noticed as she leaped across them and sprinted up the walk.

Her Reebok's squeaked noisily as she pounded up the stairs to the front door of the home. There were Christmas lights twinkling along the rail that ran along the porch and a wreath, complete with gnomes of the nations, hanging on the wooden door. 

Jo rang the doorbell and stepped from foot to foot to keep warm. She had pulled the sleeves of her Langley sweatshirt down over her hands to keep them warm and now she thrust the cuffs under her arms. She moved to the window beside the doorway and looked inside. 

C'mon, answer the door! She had concluded people were home after passing two cars in the driveway. She rapped gently on the window, then moved back to the door and banged with one fist while ringing the doorbell with the other.

"Hello?! Listen, can you help me?" she shouted against the door. "I need you to call an ambulance! Dial 9-1-1 and get them here, okay?"

A porch light above her head flickered on. "Hey! Oh, yeah!" she yelped. "Great! Thank you!"

The door opened as far as the chain would allow. A thin faced man peered out. "What do you want? It's late!"

Jo stared at him. Well, there's the honest approach, she thought. That would be: I need an ambulance for the missing heiress you've been hearing about on the news that just happens to be my roommate. She considered that for half a second.

"Somebody's hurt over at the abandoned house at the end of the lane," she explained. "Could you call an ambulance for me?" she implored urgently.

He looked at her and then looked in the direction of the house. Jo blew into her hands to warm them. 

The man raised his chin and scrutinized the young woman through his reading glasses. "There hasn't been anyone at the old Baker place for years," he grunted. "Shouldn't be anyone there now. I can't help you," he replied and started to close the door.

Jo shoved at the door with a shoulder, keeping it open. "Wait! If you won't call the paramedics will you at least call the police?" she yelled. The man shoved back with surprising force and managed to shut the door. 

"Awww, c'mon! Ya gotta be kidding!" She slammed the barrier with the palm of her hand. "This is an emergency!"

She stared dumbfounded at the ugly wreath as a voice from behind the door threatened, "I don't care for trespassers, missy. If you don't want to see the inside of a squad car yourself, you'll leave right now!" 

The Bronx native scratched her head and took a look at the empty streets. Is this typical of this neighborhood? she wondered. There were other houses but few of them looked inhabited. She took her time descending the stairs, her mind working on what to try next. 

It was getting colder and Blair was having a tough time fighting off whatever was in her system. Time was the one thing they did not have, she decided.

The brunette put her hands on her hips and pivoted around. She considered the happy holiday look of the house she had just visited. What a crock! she thought angrily. 

The old geezer wouldn't even call the police! Unbelievable! she seethed.

She looked down at the gnome village. "What are you guys smiling about?" she muttered to the tiny concrete statues. 

They, of course, weren't telling. 

Jo looked up the street one last time, praying to see the blue strobe of a patrol car. It wasn't there. With a snarl, she kicked at a grinning gnome and toppled him over. They aren't coming, she realized.

At least -- not yet, she smiled. She grabbed the fallen statue from the ground and sized up the object's weight. It was hollow but had some heft to it. Seconds later it shattered with a crash into the door of the house.

Jo cringed. That was way off. I can do better. Polniaczek lobbed the next one against a newel post where it thudded into a hundred pieces. She selected her next missile and wound up.

"Bases loaded, bottom of the ninth, full count," she shouted. "Here's the pitch!" The elf whizzed through the air and smacked full force into the picture window. 

Jo raised her arms triumphantly and threw back her head. "STRIKE!" she roared into the crisp night air.

That ought to do it, she decided as she started her run back to her friend.

Up the street, Blair Warner huddled into a ball and focused on staying alert. She shook her head to clear some of the haze from her mind, fearful that she had just dozed off. Why on earth would I dream about baseball? she wondered. 

***********  
What was that? Footsteps?

The blonde raised her head tentatively. She hoped she didn't need to run, because she doubted that she could. The effort to get under the fir trees was just about all she could manage. 

A figure jogged into the yard and stopped. 

"Jo?"

The runner turned in the direction of the voice. "Yeah," she answered somewhat breathlessly. The light from the street lamps silhouetted the slender young woman -- ponytail, ballcap and all. "Where are you?" 

"Beside your bike."

The brunette loped over and knelt down. The gathering of evergreens was tightly knit and offered some protection from the wind. It also provided good cover and the blonde had gotten between the Kawasaki and the thicket.

Good thinking, thought Jo. "Geez, Blair, you nearly gave me a seizure! No more getting lost, okay?" 

"Deal," answered the socialite who had huddled up against the rear tire of the motorcycle.

"How'd you get over here?"

"A little s-s-system I developed. Crawl, throw up, c-c-crawl some more," she shuddered.

"Sounds charming," Jo remarked. Her hands had disappeared into her cuffs again. She pressed the ends of the sweatshirt's sleeves to either side of her nose to warm up her cheeks.

"Oh, it was," quipped the blonde. "... very elegant." She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the palm of her hand. 

"Hey, you," Jo rested a cold hand on her roommate's shoulder. "Look up here," she requested gently. Blair raised her face and Jo saw the amount of strain etched across her friend's features.

"You're not just dizzy anymore, are you?" Her concerned gaze swept over her friend. "Talk to me, tell me what's going on." 

"Everything hurts -- my stomach, my head," she grimaced and folded her arms across her middle. She averted her eyes, unwilling to face Jo. "I know, I know, you think I'm a wuss," she said dejectedly.

"I do not," countered the brunette. "Really, I don't," she squeezed the shoulder under her hand hoping it would help make her point. "Not at all."

Blair's head nodded once. She hoped Jo was telling the truth. The socialite felt gingerly along her cheekbone and easily found the bruise. Sighing, she leaned against the tire.

"Just let me rest until help gets here," she pleaded. Jo settled onto the cold ground amid the pine needles beside her roommate. She brought her knees up in front of her and hugged them to her body to conserve warmth.

"No way!" Jo grinned. She nudged her sleepy friend with an elbow. "We're bonding here!" she baited. Unfortunately, Blair didn't rise to the challenge so the brunette changed tactics. "You need to tell me what you remember about what they gave you. It was an injection, right?"

"Yeah," she answered wearily. 

"When? Can you remember?" Jo's breath misted in the frigid air as her friend considered the question.

"I can't t-t-tell. It all... it just runs together," mumbled Blair. Her head dipped slightly. The scent of the evergreens recalled warm, fond memories from the depths of her tranquilized brain.

"S'okay." Do I hear sirens? Jo thought to herself. "Hear that, Blair? Your ride's here," she announced as she stood and stretched. "Aw, geez! It's cold!" she exclaimed as she stamped her feet. 

"Blair?" No answer. "Quit kiddin' around," Jo ordered sternly. Oh god. 

"Blair!"

************  
Gary shoved his sleeve up his arm to reveal his digital watch. The colon blinked steadily between the numerals, 10:44 p.m. He looked up and noted that the clock on the wall of the Peekskill Police Department was slow. 

The paper carrier's feet swung to and fro beneath him. The boy had settled into a chair near the station's front doors to wait for Natalie's friend, Jo. A nervous feeling stirred about in his stomach.

He was beginning to worry about the cute brunette. She had said to wait thirty minutes. He used an index finger to push his glasses back up the slope of his nose. 

The desk sergeant took a long drink from his coffee cup and noted the location of the latest complaint. Delancy Avenue, now that's a part of town you don't hear much out of, he thought idly. A car was on its way to check out a reported incident of vandalism.

"Sir?"

The cop looked up to see the little boy with the glasses standing before his desk.

"Son," he said with a genuine effort to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Are you ready to tell me just what it is you're doing here?"

The sandy haired youth nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir. But first, could you send an ambulance and some police to 336 Delancy Avenue?"

The sergeant's bushy brows furrowed. That is way too much of a coincidence. He tapped at his blotter. "It seems we have a car headed that way right now," he informed the boy. 

He pointed at the paper carrier. "Now, here's what's going to happen," he declared. "Number one: we call your parents."

The kid nodded once. He had expected that, it was getting pretty late.

"Number two: you start talking. Tell me about Delancy and why you're here."

  
***********

She ran straight down the middle of the street, directly toward the oncoming car. The officer switched on a floodlight and zeroed in on her face. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and kept waving, flagging them down, drawing them toward her.

As the car rolled to a stop, she approached with arms outstretched, hands open and palms showing. One patrolman exited the cruiser, he walked toward her cautiously. "What seems to be the trouble, ma'am?" 

Jo swallowed and spoke as clearly as she could considering how out of breath she was. "My friend is hurt and we need to get her to the hospital right away," she explained. She thrust a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the Baker house. 

The cops glanced at one another. The one on foot stepped closer to the girl, flicking on a flashlight and raising it to get a better look at the shivering college student. 

"Okay," he said in a patronizing manner. "How about we see this friend of yours and then we'll call for an ambulance if it's necessary."

Jo nearly growled in frustration. "Listen to me, call your station. Ask for Agent Romano. Tell him you found Jo and Blair." The brunette's eyes glittered angrily. 

"Just do it!" she shouted. The radio in the squad car crackled noisily. Neither officer moved. 

Jo paced in front of the patrolman as her temper flared. The only thing that kept her from grabbing him by the collar and shaking some sense into him was the fact he was carrying a weapon. 

And if he didn't do something besides stare at her, even that wasn't going to save him. She clenched her teeth together and raised her jaw defiantly.

"That's Jo Polniaczek and Blair Warner! Any part of that sound familiar to you guys? You want me to spell it for ya? W-A-R-N-E-R!" 

What was that, Robocop? A glimmer of recognition? "That's right, boys! You can crack the big case of the year if you'll just put that damn Ford in gear and give me a little help here!" she yelled. 

The officer nearest the agitated young woman raised his radio to his lips. "Unit 612 to station..." 

************  
Blair was someplace unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. She had been uncomfortable for so long that the confusion, the pain and the cold just seemed to be all there was in the world. 

But this place -- this was different. Not comfortable, exactly, but better. Things still weren't making lots of sense, lots of jumbled thoughts and images crowded her mind, but there was something she recognized, something to hang onto here. The aches and the cold were smaller, farther away from her now.

She was warmer. That much she could determine. 

She struggled against the sedative, frightened to loose her grip and fall farther away than she already had. Even more frightened that if she did -- she wouldn't find her way back. This battle had been going on for so long and she was growing very tired of the fight. 

What was that? A rumbling next to her ear. A voice.

"What I wouldn't give for a good argument right about now." The admission was accompanied with a sigh as the bearer repositioned her grasp on the unconscious woman in her arms.

Jo. 

That was it. That's what made sense. Sirens and motion. 

"Your Mom and Dad have been crazy with worry. They can't wait to see you."

She felt a warmth against the top of her head. Just a little bit of pressure. 

Jo laid her cheek upon Blair's head. "Mrs. G., Nat and Tootie -- everyone's been rooting for you." 

"They have a good lead on Grey. There's no way he's going to get away with this, you know." She smoothed the blanket the officers had draped over her friend. 

Jo closed her eyes and drew the bundle in her grasp closer to her. "He wasn't very smart at all. He should know better than to mess with you," she said. 

She felt the hug and felt everything it meant.

"Don't let him win, Blair." Jo raised her head as the car bumped along the emergency entrance drive.

"Hang in there, kiddo."

I'm trying, Jo. I'm trying.

*********  
Jo held the Styrofoam cup against her cheek. The coffee was lousy but at least it was warm. She drew her foot up into the chair, wrapped her arms around her upraised knee and watched the flurry of activity in and out of the emergency room. 

She rubbed her nose and offered a slight smile to the officer that sat opposite her in the hallway. His head nodded once in acknowledgment before he returned to his paperwork. 

She looked at the wall clock and did a quick calculation. They should be here any time now. Her gaze drifted toward the officer with the clipboard. Hard to believe that twenty minutes ago I wanted to shred you into little pieces, she thought. 

As a matter of habit she reached backward, straightened her ponytail, and readjusted her cap. In doing so, the blanket that had been wrapped around her when they arrived at the hospital slipped. Quickly, she repositioned it taking full advantage of the warm coverlet. 

She gnawed unconsciously at her lower lip and looked at the swinging doors that led to the ER. The upper portion of the doors was safety glass with little cross hatchings of wire. She had been past those doors a while ago, answering questions as fast as they were fired at her.

"Does she have any allergies?" 

"No, none that I know of," she watched as they transferred her friend's limp form to a gurney. 

"Any medical problems? Irregular heartbeat? Other conditions?"

"Ah, no. No, she's in perfect health, perfect." she answered. Too bad you missed hearing that, Blair, she thought as a tiny smile played across her features. She knew her friend would've had to make a smart remark to Jo's admission.

"How long has she been unconscious?" 

Jo rubbed her forehead. "Ten minutes or so this time. I don't know how long she was out before I found her. I got her up and moving and talking for probably a half hour or so..."

"She told you something was injected into her system?" 

"Yeah, she couldn't remember when," Jo answered gravely. 

The attending physician was speaking to Blair, trying to rouse her. He clicked on a penlight and checked her pupils. One of the nurses poised a syringe over the soft underside of Blair's elbow and Jo turned away. She studied the pattern of the tile floor beneath their feet until more questions began.

"Did she have any complaints before she lost consciousness? Trouble concentrating? Headache?"

Jo nodded quickly. "Yeah, both. She said it felt like her brain was working on a delay, do you know what I mean?" The woman with the clipboard noted her responses. "And her stomach was bothering her, too."

"How long has she been missing?"

"Four days," Jo responded in a hollow voice. Someone put their arm around her and began leading her away from the area. Her leather jacket was handed to her, she accepted it in a daze. They took halting steps toward the hallway.

"Was she taking any medications?"

The bill of the Yankee cap swung back and forth. "No, nothing stronger than a Tylenol." She fingered the leather of her coat, grateful for its familiarity.

"Is she is pregnant?"

A bark of a laugh burst from the brunette. She raised a hand, her fingers fluttering over her mouth. "Sorry. Wasn't expecting that one," she offered as the startled nurse stared at her. Jo cleared her throat.

"No, I really don't think so. She isn't in a relationship right now," she explained. Jo turned toward the activity around her friend. There were so many people clustered around the gurney now that she couldn't see anything. 

An array of equipment had been pulled into place with blinking lights and wires. The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor could be heard among the quiet conversations taking place at her friend's bedside.

A soft whooshing sound accompanied the swinging doors that shut behind them. Jo blinked. How did I get out here? she wondered. An orderly wrapped the girl in a blanket and handed her a cup of coffee. 

"You can wait here," he told her. Her green eyes flickered up to his face. He smiled kindly. She looked near tears.

"Is there... is there a phone around here that I can use?" she spoke clearly as she wiped a sleeve across her eyes.

"Come with me, I'll get you fixed up," he answered. "But if you don't put that jacket on and warm up you won't be much good for your friend. Ever hear of a little thing called hypothermia?"

Jo blinked hard and chuckled, knowing he was right. She drew in a deep breath. "Sure, that's a Police album, right?" she answered with a thin smile.

The staccato click of heels against the tile floor of the hallway jarred Jo out of her recollection. She turned to see Blair's parents in a near run toward the emergency room doors. She jumped to her feet to meet them.

************

Within seconds the beauty in the Yankee cap was flanked by two worried Warners.

"Jo! Jo, honey are you all right? Where's Blair?" Monica scanned the waiting area.

"I'm okay. Blair's in the emergency room. They're working with her now," she answered. Monica peppered the girl with questions about her daughter's condition. Jo did what she could to answer truthfully and reassure the worried woman.

As Jo described what she knew about Blair's status, Mr. Warner looked past the brunette into the hospital. It wasn't the Taj Mahal, but it looked clean and efficient. He squared his shoulders and looked at Jo. 

He got right to the point. "Is she still unconscious?" 

Jo paused for a split second, her worried eyes scanning their faces. Just say it. Tell them, she thought. 

"Yeah," she answered. "Yeah, she is." 

Monica drew in a shuddering breath, her hand reaching instinctively toward David. He caught her fingers and pulled them into his grasp. 

David had waited as long as his patience would allow. "I'll go find a doctor," he stated.

"I want to see my daughter," the socialite announced as she strode confidently toward the doors to the ER. The brunette stepped quickly to keep up with Mrs. Warner.

"Monica, I don't think we should..." Jo looked at the woman beside her and reconsidered. "Come on, it's this way," she said as she gave the door a shove.

******************  
She stopped a few feet from the gurney. Unconsciously, she placed a hand over her heart.

What was it Jo had just said? It isn't as bad as it looks. 

Oh, sweetie, you were always better at this than I, thought Monica as she stared at the still form in the hospital bed. She thought about the night Bailey was born and how resolute Blair had been through the whole ordeal.

"I hate hospitals," she spoke aloud. Jo's gaze shifted from the bed to her friend's mother.

"Me, too," she offered. Emboldened, Monica moved to her daughter's bedside.

Wires disappeared into the remains of the girl's blouse tethering her to a heart monitor. The machine's rhythmic beep was a comforting sound. A warming blanket covered most of the blonde with only a hand and arm visible. 

A nurse adjusted the flow on the intravenous line that had been inserted into the girl's visible hand. When he finished, he turned about and noticed the visitors. Rather than scolding the women, he invited them closer. 

Monica sniffled but kept her voice steady. "How is she?"

"Dehydrated," he reported. "Her body temp is nearly back to normal and we're keeping an eye on her vitals. Someone loaded her up with a pretty strong sedative." 

"An overdose?"

"No, more like an anesthesia," he explained. "Her chart indicated that she was walking and talking an hour ago?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity.

Jo nodded. "Made it down a flight of stairs and one vine encrusted block wall."

The man's eyebrows raised in surprise. "She must have a very strong will."

Jo chuckled. "You have no idea!" The doors behind them opened as Blair's father and a physician entered.

"Looks like they beat us here," David Warner announced. "Ladies, I'd like you to meet Dr. Vance. He has some news for us," he moved around the gurney to stand at his daughter's right shoulder. 

Jo watched as he brushed a few errant locks of hair away from Blair's face, his knuckles trailed lightly, following the curve of the sleeping girl's cheek. It was a tiny gesture and yet it spoke volumes about the man. 

The doctor opened a folder and made a notation inside it. He passed the information on to the nurse who nodded and exited the emergency room. 

Dr. Vance turned toward the anxious faces before him. "Right, we've been reluctant to speed this process along until the toxicology reports came back. We needed confirmation on the type of sedative and the levels present in Ms. Warner's system," he stated. 

"What we found was pentobarbital. From the look of things, she was given a very heavy dose." He looked at Jo. "That would account for the side effects you mentioned when she was brought in. The confusion, nausea, abdominal cramps and headache."

A trio of heads nodded, even thought they didn't fully understand where the conversation was leading. Monica had found her courage and inched even closer to Blair. When she grasped her child's warm hand, a thankful smile fluttered onto her face. 

"You're telling us that she's going to be all right when she wakes up," the older woman pronounced. Her eyes never left the girl on the gurney. 

Jo swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. 

The doctor smiled as his head tilted in agreement. "She's going to be fine and now that we know what she was given -- we can give her a little help in waking up," he said. 

Jo felt a tap on her shoulder and stepped aside to allow the nurse who had entered the room unnoticed to hand vials and syringes to the physician. 

The handsome young man maneuvered his way to Blair's bedside. His sure hands tapped the tiny bottles and drew amounts into the hypodermics. "This will counteract the drugs still in her system," he explained as he administered the first injection.

The brunette flinched and bit her lower lip. Yet another thing to hate about hospitals, she thought as she looked away. Needles were definitely not on her list of favorite things. 

"And this," he repeated the procedure, depressing the plunger quickly and efficiently, "... should bring her around." He deposited the empty syringes in the medical waste container and slid his hands inside the pockets of his white coat.

Mr. Warner cleared his throat. "Doctor, will there be any complications? You said something earlier about side effects?" 

Dr. Vance shook his head. "The sedative was probably administered more than twenty-four hours ago. It has already begun to dissipate, the injection will just speed that process along," he replied. 

He repositioned the stethoscope that hung about his neck and adjusted the knot of his tie. For the first time, Jo noticed that little Donald Ducks figured in the design amid the navy blue of the doctor's neckwear. 

Vance caught her staring. He shrugged and waved the end of the tie like a flag. "It helps put our younger patients at ease," he asserted with a grin. 

Jo crossed her arms and rocked back on her heels. "I know it's done wonders for me," she said wryly. 

The young man leaned over his patient. "Ms. Warner? There are some people here to see you. Ms. Warner?"

Blair's eyelids fluttered. Her head turned toward his voice, her mouth falling open as she caught a breath.

"Princess," her father appealed. The man's expression softened as he gazed at his child. "It isn't polite to keep us waiting." Monica sighed in relief, tears glittering in her eyes as her eldest daughter worked her way back to consciousness.

"That's the way. You've almost made it now," coached the physician. Jo smiled and released the breath she had been holding. A thought occurred to her and she laid a tentative hand on the young doctor's arm.

"I wouldn't crowd her if I were you," she advised. "Better give her some space." 

Dr. Vance's gaze darted over to Jo briefly and then returned to his patient. Jo touched Monica's clenched hands to quell the nervous look she saw forming on the socialite's face and took a step back. 

Blair grunted and opened her eyes. Her dark eyes shut again as she lashed out, her fist connecting solidly with the doctor's face. The impact surprised and jarred the young man as he recoiled and grabbed at his nose.

Jo leaned against the rail on Blair's bed. She shook her head and offered apologetically, "I tried to warn you." 

************

A trio of men was gathered in the hallway. Two in dark suits while the third wore the unmistakable uniform of the local police. 

The officer extended his arm across the corridor. "Hold it there, Miss," he announced gruffly. "You'll have to go around."

Tootie blinked up at the man. "Why?" she asked. Natalie laughed nervously.

"Tootie! Didn't you hear the nice policeman?" she said with a smile. She grabbed the strap of the bag her roommate carried and tugged her back the way they had come. 

"Sorry, officer, we'll just be going now!" she proclaimed brightly. She pushed her friend along in front of her.

Once they were out of earshot, Tootie shook off Natalie's hands. "What is wrong with you?" 

"Didn't you see those guys?" Nat whispered. 

"Yeah?" Tootie seemed completely unimpressed.

Her roommate groaned. "Do I have to spell it out for you?" She waved a hand in front of Tootie's face. "Hello! That was the F-B-I!" she asserted dramatically.

Tootie squinted at her friend and spoke very slowly and deliberately. "I know," she paused and took a beat. "Nat, they're on our side, remember?"

Natalie's eyes widened as two more agents appeared in windbreakers. "Tootie, not now," she admonished. She smiled at the approaching duo.

"Hello there," she said cheerfully. The man and woman wore identical aviator sunglasses.

"How're you doing, Natalie? Hello, Tootie!" came the reply from the taller of the two.

Natalie blinked in surprise at the deep voice. At the sound of her name, Tootie had turned around and was busy grinning at the latest arrivals.

"Scott! Kate! I was wondering when you two would show up," Tootie smiled at their detective friends. "You can relax, Natalie," she said as she elbowed her roommate. "It's two more good guys," she snickered.

Natalie rolled her eyes and then gestured toward the teenager. "I just make it a policy never a to mess with the Federal Bureau of Investigation." She nodded. 

"If I can help it. Which I can," she grinned. The Peekskill detectives chuckled at the description.

Detective Bassettson quickly introduced the witty reporter to his partner. Nat decided that she liked the affable Detective Kate Drury even though at first glance the shades, PPD ballcap and navy windbreaker made the woman look quite formidable.

"So, how's Blair doing?" asked the handsome Detective Bassettson.

"Better, she's going to be fine," explained a relieved Tootie. "We were on our way to see her when Natalie got all paranoid..."

"The man said go around. What part of that didn't you understand?" interrupted the reporter.

"Funny, that's just where we were headed," mused Drury. She gave her partner a wink.

"Yeah, how about you two tag along with us?" asked Bassettson. He stepped past the girls and extended his arm down the corridor. 

Natalie raised her nose haughtily. "A police escort. I like it!" she quipped as they started on their way.

*******  


"What did you do?" asked Tootie as she pulled her chair closer to the bed. It scooted with a shriek across the linoleum floor.

"Apparently, I broke his nose."

Natalie laughed. "You what?"

"You heard me," Blair replied curtly. "I wake up and this strange guy is leaning over me so I just... sort of..."

"You clobbered your doctor?" asked a wide-eyed Natalie. She looked to Jo for confirmation. "No way! Did she deck the doc?"

Tootie's mouth hung open as she absorbed the news. "Oh, that is just priceless!"

Jo leaned forward from her perch on the windowsill and slammed a fist into her palm. "She nailed him. Pow! One good hit and he was down for the count," she elaborated.

Blair folded her arms and gave the brunette an icy glare. "That is an exaggeration," she said. Jo smiled, crossed her ankles and leaned back against the edge of the wall.

She shrugged. "Hey, my conscience is clear. I tried to warn him," she replied. She grinned at Tootie and Natalie and pointed at Blair. "She's got a wicked right cross!"

Blair drew herself up a bit. "Yeah, and don't you forget it," she taunted. 

Natalie had been pondering the latest info for a moment. "Whose medical insurance will pay for the nose, yours or his?" she wondered aloud.

"No, think about it. What if he needs plastic surgery? You could end up buying a new nose and it wouldn't even be yours!" she quipped. The other girls howled at the remark.

Blair rolled her eyes. She swept her bangs off her forehead, her fingers grazing the bandage there. She touched it briefly and then let her hand drop to her lap. 

She traced the edge of one of her bandaged wrists and took a breath. "Actually, I am in the market for some new friends..." she growled, her lips curving into a sly smile.

Tootie raised her head and waved off the comment. "No way. Forget about it. Besides, no one will work as cheap as we do," she grinned. 

One of Blair's coppery brows arched as she feigned deep thought. "You got a point there, Tootie. Guess I'm just stuck with you guys," she smiled and swatted playfully at the girl. 

Natalie leaned back and stretched across the foot of Blair's bed. "You could do worse," she joked. "We could be a welcome home committee from the Gamma House led by your pal, Boots!" she giggled. 

Blair cringed as the auburn haired girl launched into a parody of the social climbing preppie. "Warnsy! Darling, how are you?" she extended her hand over dramatically and patted Blair's blanket covered leg. 

"May I just say how utterly tres chic that precious little bandage is! I can see it now -- next week they'll be all the rage on campus!" She pointed at Tootie. "Mimsy, dear, do fluff our dear friend's pillows," she intoned nasally as Tootie bounced up and set about the task. 

Blair chuckled and lowered her voice to a sinister purr. "Boots, dear, I'd be happy to give you one of your very own," she threatened. 

The play-acting duo howled with laughter. Their giggles draining away the tension of the last few days.

Jo shook her head and tugged the blinds behind her down a bit to get a better view of the street. The city was beginning to come to life. She squinted at the vans lining up along the edges of the hospital entrance. The satellite antennas on top left little doubt as to their purpose. 

Oh great, she thought. "As much as I would enjoy watching Blair slap you two silly people around, I think we need to get serious here for a minute."

Blair watched Jo frown at something she saw on the street. "What? What's wrong?" she asked as she swung her feet out of bed. Tootie and Natalie followed her lead and raced to the window. 

Tootie rested a hand on the small of the blonde's back. "Blair, should you be out of bed?" 

The college student wrapped an arm around her friend from Eastland. "It's okay, Tootie. They're supposed to discharge me later this morning," she said as she slid into place beside Jo. 

"Wow! Is that NBC out of Manhattan down there?" squealed Natalie. 

"Yep," intoned the brunette gravely. "And CBS and ABC and a bunch of affiliates from who knows where." She watched as Blair tried to make sense out of what she was saying.

The socialite pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully. "So the media is here." She looked at the faces of her friends in turn. Jo looked particularly grim. 

"So what? Is the mayor having an appendectomy or something?" Blair asked innocently.

Natalie rubbed her forehead with a hand. Somebody at the Register was in big trouble, she decided. Tootie chewed at her thumbnail nervously. 

Blair raised her hands in surrender. "Hello? A little help here? What's the big deal?"

"Well, um, I guess you could say ... you see, it's really very understandable..." Tootie rattled. Nat peered through her fingers and prayed that the girl would get to the point. At least before we're all on social security, she hoped.

"You. You are the headline of the day, Blair, " Jo interjected. Blair gaped at her roommate. 

The brunette tapped the windowpane between the blinds with a fingernail. "Reporters have been camped out in front of the house for days now," she said. "I didn't think they'd get here so soon," she remarked brusquely.

Blair looked down at the media throng camped on the sidewalk. A broadcast journalism axiom floated through her mind. "If it bleeds, it leads," she whispered. 

Change the city and the names and the reporters would still have a story. A happy story, a tragic story, it made no difference as long as it racked up readers and viewers. 

She cringed inwardly. This story had all the proper elements, too. A life in danger, lots of money involved and a name to hang it all on. No matter how the story ended the papers would still sell. The anchors would cluck their twenty-five seconds worth of sound bites and move on to a cat food commercial. 

"Blair, we didn't..."

"I know, Natalie. I know," she assured the girl. The blonde turned, padded her way back to the bed and sat down, letting her sock feet dangle above the floor. 

She raised her chin defiantly. "I am a person -- not a headline," she announced. "My family is no ones ratings points."

"So what now?" Tootie asked quietly.

"I want to go home," she answered. "... and I don't want to see it on the six o'clock news."

Jo groaned. "Oh, good. Just as long as you don't want anything too difficult," she replied sarcastically. The comment didn't even faze the socialite. 

The brown eyes beneath the bandage narrowed slightly. She crossed her legs and leaned back on her outstretched arms. "There has to be a way," she challenged.

"Like what, maybe? Make a run for it? Come on, Blair, be serious," argued Jo.

"I couldn't be more serious if my stock portfolio depended on it." 

Tootie whistled and turned to look at the brunette. "That's serious," she commented dryly.  
Meanwhile, Natalie walked to the end of the room and back. She thought about the layout of the hospital. She considered the placement of the exit doors. Tootie watched her roommate pace and a nagging suspicion came to mind.

Uh oh, thought the senior. "Nat? What are you up to?" 

"A little diversion, a little luck and a whole lot of deviousness. Why do you ask?" she answered cryptically.

"Do I even want to hear this?" Jo asked as if the question itself was painful.

Natalie's auburn hair dusted her shoulder as she cocked her head. "It's really very simple. Tootie, do you think our detective friends are still around?"

"Bassettson and Drury? Probably," she guessed. 

"Find them."

***************  
Detective Scott Bassettson smoothed his tie and then crossed his arms. It isn't standard procedure, that's for sure.

"Kate?" he asked. 

She slid out of her windbreaker and laid her sunglasses on the table. He recognized that look. She had made up her mind. 

"The way I see it, that bunch of parasites has it coming," she commented firmly. "They tried every way imaginable to blow this case for us."

Bassettson looked around the room. His eyes settled on Blair who was on the telephone.

"You'll still have to come to the station for your statement," he told her. The blonde nodded in agreement.

"Okay. Let's do it," he said. The tall detective pulled his aviator shades from his breast pocket and then shook his head.

"Why is it everything with you guys becomes a major production?" he asked the assembled group. 

"That's just part of our charm," retorted Natalie with a broad grin. She elbowed Tootie. 

"Let's get this show on the road! Blair, everything set with your parents?"

The blonde hung up the receiver. "Ready and waiting," she sat down on the bed next to Jo. "They're on their way over now."

Jo had misgivings about Natalie's scheme, but kept them to herself. Who knows? she thought. It just might work.

Her green eyes tracked from Nat to Tootie and back to the reporter.

"Well then, Shaggy, Scooby," she grinned. "What is it we're gonna do again?" 

***************  
The agents had already escorted three reporters to the front lobby of the hospital. Nevermind that David Warner had scheduled a press conference in Manhattan to bring the media up to date. That was hours away and in a different city.

The heiress was somewhere in the hospital and they meant to get the story here. The news crews milled about outside the center's main entrance. Hospital security had barely been able to keep the crowd sequestered in the lobby. Each elevator car that arrived on the first floor was met with a crush of attention.

Photojournalists shot film of each arriving car, hoping to catch the Warners as they returned to retrieve their daughter.

A silver Mercedes Benz rolled along Fifth Avenue in route to the hospital. Monica Warner chuckled and handed the cellular phone to her ex-husband who made a few more comments and then terminated the call.

The businessman folded up the trim device and slid it into a holder on the dash. "I still think she should spend a few days with you and Bailey," he said as he steered the vehicle through an intersection. 

"Maybe spend a little time with her grandparents and I over the holidays" he grumbled. "

The woman in the passenger seat gazed thoughtfully at the passing homes and businesses. "Yes, I suppose you would think that," she remarked. 

David's eyes shifted to her. "Would that be so terrible?" 

"No, it would be wonderful," she sighed. Monica looked at him with an expression tinged with sadness. "But, darling, we're fifteen years too late."

She laid a hand on his forearm as she spoke. "I feel the same way," she confided. "When she was missing all I could see were the opportunities I had and wasted."

"Oh, we were together occasionally for holidays, Blair and I and two hundred guests," she smirked. 

"Her Spring break in Holland wasn't much better," he admitted. "My seventeen-year-old daughter toured the whole country with my assistant while I was in meetings."

Monica nodded. "I can top that. How would you like to describe your relationship with your child like this: We shopped at all the finest stores," she said dramatically. 

"Truly! Bloomingdales nearly named an elevator after us!"

David chuckled at the admission. "I never missed sending roses on her birthday." He cocked his head in thought. A lot of roses. Gardens worth.

"What were we thinking?" he asked. 

"That there would always be time to make up for it," she offered as she looked out the window again. "It was frightening to think that we were out of chances."

The tall towers of the hospital stood out against the sky as they approached. She took a deep breath. "However, I'm not sorry I hit you," she intoned menacingly.

David smiled. "I realize that. Considering the circumstances, it could have been much worse." 

Monica turned to look at him. "Really? How so?"

"You remember the argument?" She nodded. "Do you remember how it ended?" he asked. David turned the big car into the driveway of the hospital.

"Given my choice, I would much rather be slugged by you than Jo," he teased.

***************  
"All right, people," announced Det. Bassettson as the elevator door opened. He and his partner stepped into the throng of reporters. "Clear out, nothing to see here."

His partner surveyed the crowd from behind her dark glasses. She had a stony expression as she made way for the girl that trailed after her. 

Jo had stepped back into the elevator at the first sight of the crowd. "I don't know about this," she said. 

The blonde in the Peekskill Police Department jacket smirked. "Move it, Polniaczek."

"All right, all right," grumbled Jo as she fell into step behind the woman. The trio crossed the lobby and exited the hospital into a circle of news crews. The television reporters grabbed their microphones and sprinted to meet them.

"Detective Bassettson, how did the Peekskill Police determine the whereabouts of Ms. Warner?" shouted a reporter. The rest huddled close and strained to get the quote.

Bassettson cleared his throat. "The Department will be issuing a statement at noon today," he responded as he kept walking. "The details you want will be made available to you at that time." Most of the reporters hung back and refused to follow further. 

A thin woman shoved a microphone in Jo's face. "Ms. Polniaczek, you're a friend of the kidnap victim," she observed as her cameraman moved into position to get the shot.

Jo frowned and tried to move away. The newswoman followed.

"What can you tell us about Ms. Warner? What is her current state of mind? Was she assaulted?" She pressed on wanting details.

Bassettson's partner stepped between the brunette and the reporter. "Ms. Polniaczek has no comment," she intoned icily. 

Jo peeked over the shoulder of the blonde in the PPD navy blue ballcap. She smiled at the reporter. "What she said," she chuckled.

Bassettson's partner didn't budge. "Scott, can you escort Ms. Polniaczek back to her home?" she asked. She looked at the reporter. "I'd hate to have her harassed any further by these jokers."

The reporter sneered at the cop. "We have the right to pursue the truth..." 

The woman in the sunglasses raised her hand. "Just save it, sister. No one here is listening." The reporter was confounded and stood slack jawed as the blonde caught up with Det. Bassettson and Jo.

The tall detective reached the police car first. He opened a door and the brunette climbed into the back seat. 

"Come on, partner," he said pointedly as the blonde bailed into the passenger seat.

No one spoke as he maneuvered the car out of the lot. In fact, they made it all the way to the traffic light before Bassettson's partner turned around in her seat.

She pulled off the aviator style glasses to reveal a pair of brown eyes. She repeated the brunette's earlier comeback as though she couldn't believe it.

"'What she said?' That was the best you could do?"

Jo laughed and leaned her elbows over the back of the bench seat. "You're right, Blair. I should have told her to turn blue!" She smacked her forehead with her fingertips. "What was I thinking!"

Bassettson laughed along with his cohorts. "The aim was to keep a low profile and not attract attention," he said.

"We did," said Jo. "Well, sort of, anyway." She leaned back in her seat. 

"You practically threatened a television reporter!"

"Oh, that," replied Blair guiltily as she twirled a finger in the end of her ponytail.

Jo held up her hand and mocked Blair's stern delivery. "Save it, sister," she growled before dissolving into fit of snickers. She pointed at her roommate. 

"That's it. No more Lethal Weapon movies for you!" 

The dark jacket with the police shield printed on the front and the big capital PPD in yellow on the back really did the trick. Blair had pulled her hair into a ponytail, added the police issue cap, sunglasses and walked right out the front door.

**************  
"Let's get this over with," said Blair as she stepped into the Peekskill Police Department. Detective Bassettson led the way as the trio headed back toward the makeshift headquarters that had been assembled for the case.

Jo yawned as they passed the desk sergeant. What day was it? she wondered. Monday? She walked along trying to make sense of the past two days and bumped into Blair.

"Sorry, didn't know we were stopping," she apologized. Her roommate nodded and put a hand on the brunette's shoulder.

"Jo, why don't you get out of here?" She looked down the hallway to where Bassettson waited. "I have no idea how long this will take," she admitted. 

The brunette stepped closer. "If the bureau is as thorough with you as they were with me, you'll be finished around Saint Patrick's Day," she whispered. Blair frowned at the thought and that caused Jo to chuckle.

"Relax, it won't be so bad." She slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "A couple of those agents are pretty cute," she remarked with a grin.

The blonde's face brightened considerably. "Really?"

"Really. No kidding," commented the girl from the Bronx. An outburst behind them caused both young women to turn around. 

Someone was shouting -- really yelling about something. Scott Bassettson had returned to hurry them along. 

"Ladies, come on," he entreated. He scowled at the commotion, his blue eyes registering on the fellow making the disturbance.

The shouting man was stalking towards them and pointing.

At them.

Jo's green eyes widened. Oh, no. 

She turned her back to the man just as he raised a bony finger and jutted it toward the brunette. 

"Her! That's her! Arrest her! Right this instant!" he hollered as he smacked his hat against the sergeant's desk. Jo winced at the shrill condemnation.

Det. Bassettson stepped forward to quiet the man down while Blair turned to Jo. "What did you do?" she whispered.

Her roommate shifted from foot to foot. Just thinking about it made her angry again. "He wouldn't call the police, Blair," she protested bitterly. 

"I asked him nicely to call an ambulance or the police and he wouldn't do it. We needed help and he didn't care." 

"Jo ..." Blair asked again, this time more gently. "What did you do?"

The brunette looked away. "I threw a bunch of his elves into his house," she admitted. The blonde cocked her head, a puzzled expression on her face. 

"Elves, you know, gnomes, lawn decorations! Whatever you want to call the ugly little things," Jo sputtered. "I shattered two against his porch and sailed the third one straight into his living room."

"He sure called the cops then," she smiled briefly at the recollection and then turned to face her friend. "Look, Blair, it was ..." she stopped and blinked. Blair was gone.

Jo covered her face with her hands. This is not a good sign, she decided.

***************  
"I demand satisfaction!" preached Mr. Theodore Wills as a befuddled Det. Bassettson tried to make sense of the man's complaint.

"Mr. Wills, if you will just calm down I'm sure we can assist you in some way," Bassettson offered. Scott felt a presence next to him and he looked over to see Blair. She had sidled right up to the angry man.

"Mr. Wills, are you aware that there are laws against refusing to aid in an emergency?" she asked calmly. Before the man could answer, she described the situation as it had unfolded. 

"The young woman you refused to help last night was assisting the FBI," she bluffed. Wills mouth hung open as he gaped at the pretty blonde in the cop clothes. 

"The aid she was trying to summon was for a kidnapping victim. Specifically, the Warner kidnapping." Blair's expression was unreadable. She was furious.

"Now, that case has been resolved in large part to the courage of the woman you want arrested." She paused and looked at Scott for silent confirmation. The detective's mouth quirked into a tiny smile which he then forced from his face.

"You press charges and I assure you we will inform the bureau about your refusal to help, and for that matter, let the Warners know that you are the reason medical help didn't reach their daughter immediately." 

Wills eyes shifted about nervously. He hadn't counted on any of this. "I didn't know," he offered lamely. He twisted his hat in his hands.

The debutante glared at the man. "You didn't know what you did was wrong, Mr. Wills? I doubt that," she accused. "What you didn't realize is that it would come back to haunt you."

Good one, Blair, thought Bassettson. The tall detective looked down at the man. "All right then, what's it going to be? It's up to you." 

Theodore Wills smiled thinly and waved his bony hands about. "It's not that important. I won't be pressing charges after all. I'm just glad everything worked out," he asserted. 

Scott clapped the older fellow on the shoulder and turned him toward the desk sergeant. "Let's go see what we can do about getting rid of your complaint," he said.

"That girl, the one that was kidnapped, is she all right?" Wills asked.

Bassettson smiled. "Yes, sir. I believe she is," he pronounced. Blair winked at the handsome detective and headed back down the hallway to find Jo.

*************

Jo grinned as she watched Mrs. G pull Blair into a ferocious hug.

"Mrs. Garrett?"

The woman hadn't said anything for several seconds. Blair returned the embrace and then stepped back to look her mentor in the eye.

Edna's blue eyes glistened as she gazed at her charge. The woman smiled and cupped a small hand over the blonde's cheek, carefully avoiding the angry bruise that appeared there.

The woman from Appleton didn't trust her voice. She had begun to choke up when the door had opened. How many times over the years had doors opened and closed in her life? she wondered. 

She thought of the passages beyond those doors and what a gift it was when someone you loved returned to you.

Blair smiled and Edna recognized a hint of concern in the young woman's brown eyes. She took the girl's hands in her own and cleared her throat.

"No more missing curfew," Mrs. Garrett intoned seriously. The girl was grown. She hadn't had a curfew in years. 

Blair gave the woman's hands a firm squeeze. "Not if I can help it," she promised.

***************

The brunette creeped up the stairs and through the doorway. That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life. Just a little further, one foot in front of the other, she thought.

Seven hours of sleep out of the last thirty-six had caught up with the girl.

I must be getting old, she thought. She heard her roommate ask her a question.

Jo stumbled to her bed and collapsed, flopping face down on the mattress. "Go ahead," she mumbled as she drew her arms up around her pillow.

"Are you sure?" Blair asked. "Because I plan on showering for about a day and a half," she speculated. "No kidding."

Jo tucked her cheek into a soft spot in the pillow. "Knock yerself out," she replied. 

Blair grabbed her robe plus a few choice articles and disappeared into the bath. There were two things on her mind. The first was a long, hot shower with lots of soap and the second was to burn the clothes she had been wearing.

Forty five minutes later the blonde returned to the bedroom to find that her roommate hadn't moved an inch. She was still on top of the gray comforter with her arms hugging her pillow and her feet dangling toes down off the end of the bed.

The blonde hung up her robe and grabbed a red v-neck sweater out of the closet. She ducked into the garment and shook her hair back into place. A bath, fresh clothes and make-up had done wonders for her self esteem. I almost feel human again, she sighed.

Her socks muffled her steps as she padded over to Jo's bed and slid the girl's tennis shoes off her feet. A soft smile crossed her face as she realized how exhausted her friend was. 

Out like a light, thought Blair as she removed the second Reebok. The action disturbed the girl's slumber and she kicked in her sleep.

"Okay, feet up now," Blair patted Jo's leg and the girl obediently drew her knees up and turned onto her side. 

Well, that figures. The debutante shook her head in amusement. The only time she listens to me is in her sleep! She grabbed a nearby blanket and spread it over her friend.

A commotion downstairs combined with a loud conversation and heavy footsteps on the stairs caught the college student's attention. Quickly, she made an about-face and moved to the door. She snapped off the lights, stepped into the hallway and quietly closed the door behind her.

Tootie and Natalie clambered towards the room they shared with the older girls. Blair met them in the hall and tried to head them off.

"What?" exclaimed the reporter. "What's with all the shushing?" she complained. "Don't you want to hear what happened?"

"I was brilliant!" Tootie interjected with a broad smile. Blair turned the girls about and got between them, wrapping an arm over each's shoulders as she steered them back downstairs.

"I knew you would be," she agreed. "Let's go into the living room and you can tell me all about it."

Tootie looked back toward their room. "What about Jo?"

Blair scowled and waved her hand in a dismissive way. "Later, she can hear about it later," she suggested. The trio began making their way down the steps. 

**************  
"They trailed after them all the way to the car," Nat reported with mischievous delight. "I'm telling you -- it looked like a parade!"

Tootie nodded excitedly. "The only thing missing was giant balloon animals!" she giggled. "At one point, your mom told a pushy reporter that rude and ugly was no way to go through life!"

Blair waved her hands and rocked back on the couch. She laughed so hard she couldn't breathe. Nat was giggling so much that her eyes had shrunk down to tiny slits. They appeared as mere crescents perched above the reporter's cheeks.

Tootie slapped the pillowed back of the sofa as her snickers shifted into low gear. Her warm brown eyes looked about the room and took in the faces of her friends. 

Mrs. Garrett's laughter was its usual musical lilt. The redhead leaned expectantly forward from her seat in the wingback chair and listened attentively. 

Meanwhile, Blair daubed daintily at the edges of her eye makeup. Tootie could tell she was tired. No, more than tired, she thought. Wrung out, that's a better description. And yet, here she sits laughing with us.

The socialite caught the girl staring. She leaned over and tousled the girl's dark hair playfully. 

The blonde chuckled. "I can't believe it," she accused. Tootie's eyes widened and she swatted at the socialite's gray trousers.

"It's the truth!" she retorted. She jumped up and hurried behind the couch. "Show her Nat."

Natalie's green eyes sparkled with delight. She was in her glory retelling their exploits. She had even retrieved the coat Tootie wore to illustrate the next passage of the tale. 

The auburn haired writer fluffed the fur jacket and held it out for her roommate. "You will all recognize Blair's famous furball jacket," she commented as Tootie modeled the garment.

"Hey!" Blair interjected with a pout. 

Natalie looked at the blonde. "Blair -- it's huge, it's furry -- would you prefer I called it your Chewbacca coat?" she deadpanned. She grinned, pleased with her reference to the Star Wars character. 

Blair was speechless. "That's what I thought," replied Natalie.

"Now behold the transformation!" She raised the hood of the fox jacket up over Tootie's head as the girl zipped up the front. Next, she handed an oversize pair of Chanel sunglasses to the senior who slipped them on.

The socialite began to smile. You really couldn't tell who was under all that coat. The hood bundled up so about the wearer's face that all you could see were the tops of the glasses.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press," Natalie announced with fanfare. "May I present, Ms. Blair Warner!"

Tootie curtsied. "Thank you, thank you!" She held up a hand and dipped her nose down within the fluffy collar of the jacket. "No photographs, please!"

Applause arose from the couch where Blair whistled and clapped in appreciation. "Bravo! Encore!" she cheered.

Tootie worked her way back out of the coat and then plopped back down on the sofa. She folded the heavy jacket over the back of the couch and smoothed her hair back into place.

Nat dropped into the chair opposite Mrs. Garrett. She propped her feet up on the coffee table. 

"Clockwork, I'm telling you, it worked like clockwork!" she boasted.

Blair grinned in amazement. "You guys are the best," she beamed. "The absolute best."

Tootie leaned back and smiled smugly. "How very nice of you to notice," she quipped. 

"I bet your picture will be in the morning paper," mused Blair. "You'll have to add the clipping to your acting scrapbook." 

At the mention of the Register, Natalie sat up straighter in her seat. "How about my pal Gary cracking the case that stumped the feds?" she said proudly. She raised her arms and flexed them in a body builder's pose. "Forget about the power of the press, let's hear it for the power of the paper carrier!"

Blair shifted her weight and relaxed into the corner of the couch, her elbow propped casually against its arm. She rested her chin in her hand. "Natalie, tell me more about this little fellow..."

*************

The sunlight was bright and the sky was awash with azure on the crisp December day. Feeling a chill, she grasped the lapels of her jacket with one hand and pulled them together. She moved toward the rear of her car, smiling at her friend whose dark head had just appeared above the top of the opened hatch. 

Jo leaned against the trunk lid and wagged a finger at her. "You are really something, Blair. I musta hauled twenty, twenty-five packages out here. You carried, what, four? How did you manage to get me to do most of the work?"

"It's a trade secret," she replied breezily with a toss of her head and was rewarded with one of her friend's trademark smirks. Blair raised the package she still carried high enough for Jo to see. The shiny foil wrapping shimmered while a tiny bell hidden among the bows tinkled softly.

"Yeah?" Jo smiled at the sight of another gift for the kids and then followed that up with a scowl for Blair. "Will you hurry up? We're going to be late," she grumbled as she took a step back and waited.

"I am hurrying! Boy, do you need to embrace the whole 'goodwill to men' thing," she muttered in reply. Jo's eyebrows raised signaling she'd heard the comment. 

A gust of frigid air swept along the sidewalk scattering the last of the leaves before it. It washed over them, imparting a biting chill as it did. Blair turned her face away from the wind. When she turned back someone was blocking her path.

"Hey!" Now he stood beside her. She looked at Jo who was surrounded by strangers. A feeling of dread welled up inside her. She shouted to her friend but her voice wouldn't work. The man grabbed her by the arm and started to pull her away from the car. 

The blonde beauty braced her feet and struggled against him. The dread she had felt earlier was now a palpable fear and she was overwhelmed with a need to tell Jo to run. 

Blair screamed out a warning but to no avail as sound itself had disappeared. No traffic noise, no wind, only silence. Time itself had slowed to a crawl as the scene before her unfolded. 

Jo's expression went from confusion to anger as she slammed the hatch and jumped up on the sidewalk. One of the men near the brunette put out a hand to stop her and she shoved it aside. 

Blair gritted her teeth in frustration while tears stung her eyes. She watched helplessly as events unfolded in slow-motion.

A fiercely determined Jo was trying to reach her while two men in dark trench coats blocked each path she tried. Her green eyes glittered dangerously as she negotiated with the men. 

Blair squinted trying to understand what was being said. Most of it was indecipherable except for the final words, delivered by her roommate in a silent shout...

"LET HER GO!" 

The men moved away from the angry young woman. She took a cautious step in her friend's direction and then stumbled, her knees buckling. The brunette grimaced as she fell.

Brown eyes widened in horror as Blair screamed. The sound returned as the air was shattered through with sharp staccato cracks. Jo's shoulders lurched against an unseen force.

"NO!" she cried out, helpless to do anything but watch.

***************

"Easy! Easy there ... wake up, you're okay. It's only a nightmare," Jo soothed. 

Even in the darkness, the brunette could make out Blair's tense features. She had been aware that her friend was dreaming for some time but hesitated to intervene until she heard her call out.

The young woman was obviously agitated, her body coiled in a fight-or-flight reflexive state. She struggled to calm herself and to gain control of her racing heart.

Blair Warner took a deep breath and sighed while she rubbed at her eyes, trying to push the remnants of the dream away. The images were still frighteningly close to her and she shuddered involuntarily. 

Seconds passed before she opened her dark eyes to study the person perched on the edge of her bed. Jo hadn't moved an inch. She waited for confirmation that the worst had passed and, as was her way, she stayed just within arm's reach. Not crowding, not pushing: simply offering support if it was needed. 

The blonde scooted into a sitting position. By the subtle cock of her roommate's head, Blair could tell she was worried about her. In light of this last dream, that struck her as ironic and she shook her head as Jo reached to turn on the lamp on the nightstand.

Blair closed her eyes against the light and opened them slowly, allowing them time to adjust. She was grateful that the rest of the room was empty. Everyone had made it safely on to their holiday destinations. 

Her roommate stifled a yawn and stretched. She raised a hand and pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not much to talk about," Blair replied.

Jo didn't seem convinced. She grabbed a handful of the twisted sheets and comforter and attempted to pull them back to order. "Blair, come on. You nearly thrashed yourself out of bed," she offered. 

"Oh," an embarrassed Blair avoided her friend's gaze. "I'm sorry ... I .. I didn't think... I didn't mean to wake you," she stammered. She focused her somber gaze on the door. 

Jo sighed. "Forget about it, really. I'll live," the brunette declared with a crooked smile.

The comment sliced through Blair's concentration. She raised her head abruptly and faced her friend. 

The two little words reverberated in the blonde's heart. She replayed them in her mind, "I'll live." That's what her best friend had said. Somehow, Blair finally believed it was true.

Because here Jo sat, rumpled and confused in the middle of the night. Sleepy, grumpy and gloriously alive.

Yeah, thought the socialite. She's fine. I'm fine. A slow smile spread across her tired face. Time to let it go now. Expressive brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She blinked them back, too proud to let them fall.

"What?" Jo asked cautiously. She scooted closer to her friend. "Blair, what's wrong?"

Blair daubed at an eye with the back of a hand. "I think I just figured out something important," she admitted. 

Her roommate's dark brows raised. "Care to share the insight?" she prodded gently.

"You just reminded me to be grateful for the things I have..." she raised a hand to forestall any forthcoming wisecracks, "... no, not the material things -- the other things. The ones that are irreplaceable." 

Blair paused and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "I never thought much about losing them." A sad smile preceded her next words. "Now, at night, I don't seem to be able to think of much else."

Her friend nodded sympathetically. A dreadful thought occurred to her, one that she didn't even know how to articulate. 

"Jo?"

The brunette considered all possibilities. Had Blair been honest with them about everything that had happened?

The blonde watched as her friend faded into deep thought. She leaned forward and tapped her friend's knee. "Jo, are you feeling all right?"

"Huh?" The Bronx native blinked. That question was completely unexpected. "Me? I'm fine," she asserted as she brought her feet up to sit cross legged on Blair's bed. 

Jo snagged one of Blair's oversized pillows and pulled it onto her lap. She folded her arms across the cushion and attempted to get more comfortable. Fidgeting a little, she shoved the sleeves of her flannel nightshirt up to her elbows. 

"See, I have this friend, and she's having a really rough time of it lately," she confided. "This awful thing happened to her and yet, she came through it all with such strength and grace," she said, admiration coloring her tone.

Blair pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and listened. Her heart received the warm words gladly. 

Jo propped an elbow on the pillow and leaned on her hand. "Trouble is, she's stubborn and I'm stubborn and that makes it hard for either of us to ask for help," she declared with exasperation. 

The blonde head tilted in response. She reached forward and gave her roommate's arm a fleeting touch. "I have a friend like that, too," she admitted conspiratorially. 

The edge of Jo's mouth quirked upwards slightly, but her voice remained clear and serious. "So then, you understand how important it is that my friend knows she can lean on me if she needs to," Jo stated succinctly. "No matter what."

Blair nodded slowly. "No matter what," she repeated. Jo's head bobbed in agreement. 

The brunette's green gaze took on a mischievous glint. "But enough about her -- how are you doing?" Jo asked with a smirk.

The socialite cast her eyes heavenward and chuckled lightly. "Hanging in," she answered. "Getting better all the time." 

"Have you gotten any rest? At all since you came back?"

"Plenty," she lied. Her roommate folder her arms and looked at her skeptically.

"Some," she answered again. "Okay, I'm terrified to close my eyes! Is that what you want me to say? You happy now?" 

"Yes!" her roommate answered quickly. "Uh, I mean, no... that doesn't make me happy! How could you even think that, you idiot!" scolded Jo. Blair snickered in the semi-darkness.

"What?" Jo asked gruffly. 

"You just called me an idiot."

"Yeah?" The brunette considered that for a moment. "Well, you just said a very stupid thing... " Wait a minute, thought Jo. She squinted at her roommate. Was Blair actually grinning?

"What are you smiling about?" 

"That's the first name you've called me since this whole thing happened." 

"I don't follow you."

"Okay, since I've gotten back, everyone has been wonderful. Too wonderful. I know you've all been trying to make things easier, and I appreciate that, but the more you guys treat me like I'm fragile the harder it is not to believe it." 

She frowned wondering if she had said what she had really meant to convey. "I need for things to be the way they were before. I need Natalie to get ticked off when I take too much time in the bathroom. I need to work my whole shift without Tootie offering to take over so I can have some time off," she said in a rush.

She prodded her friend with a knuckle. "I need you to be your usual hard-case self, Jo." Blair looked down at the bandages that still circled her wrists. She tugged the sleeves of her peach pajamas down to cover the dressings. 

Jo watched in silence as the blonde head shook back and forth slowly. "I was never supposed to get out of that room," she admitted. She looked up with a shy smile. 

"But I did. Because you showed up," she reported honestly. "Do you know how grateful I am for everything you've done? You didn't give up on me. I'll never be able to thank you for that."

Jo gave a slightly embarrassed smile in response. "You thanked me way back on Delancy Avenue, remember?" She bunched the pillow up with her hands.

"That's not what I mean," Blair said. "Jo, you ..."

"I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done," the brunette finished with a grin. She twisted the corners of the pale pillowcase she held in her lap. Blair exhaled sharply with a slight degree of irritation.

"Joanna Marie Polniaczek, will you quit fidgeting and just listen to me?"

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sister Blair of the House of Perpetual Etiquette!" Jo chuckled as she straightened her posture and folded her hands demurely in her lap. 

Better all the time, thought Blair to herself. And this time, it was true.

*********  
"Yes?" The thin sandy haired woman opened the screen door and watched the man carefully. He was driving a van with bright vinyl graphics festooned all over it. His jacket displayed the same logo and he carried a yellow clipboard in his hand.

He didn't seem put off by her caution, instead he just smiled and touched the bill of his cap. "Hello, Ma'am, I have a delivery here for a Gary McKay."

Alice McKay stepped closer to the wire mesh of the door. "Gary's my son," she answered. The paper carrier had nearly worried her to death just a few nights ago. She opened the door and stepped onto the small porch of their home as the delivery man headed toward the rear of his van.

Mrs. McKay frowned as she remembered driving to the station to retrieve her child. It wasn't like him to defy her and she just couldn't understand why he would've fabricated such an outlandish story.

Like any mother, she was overjoyed to find him in one piece. She hugged him and kissed him and grounded him for a month.

Gary trotted up to the door to see what was happening. "Mom?" he opened the squeaky door and joined her on the porch. "What's going on?"

The boy's blue eyes zeroed in on the side of the van. "Mom! What's he doing here?" he asked as he tugged at his mother's elbow. She shook her head and looked thoughtfully at the intertwined spokes and wheels of the company logo.

The man slammed the doors of the van and began rolling the delivery up the walk. The knobby tires scrunched against the concrete as he executed the turn and wheeled it up to the foot of the stairs.

The fellow from Rad Bikes grinned and stepped on the kickstand. He positioned the bike and then climbed the stairs to offer the delivery ticket to Gary's mother for a signature. She looked at the slip. It wasn't an invoice -- just a verification that it had been received. 

Gary bounded past the man and raced over to the gleaming moto-cross style bicycle. It was a sleek silver with black and red accents. The cross bar on the handlebars was padded and it featured mag wheels just like on professional moto-cross bikes. It had hand brakes, fenders and a black bike bag under the seat. A brand new bike chain and lock was wound around the sturdy frame of the boy's bike.

Gary blinked in wonder. He ran his hand over the leather seat. The rich kids don't have a bike this cool, he thought to himself. A tag with his name on it caught his attention.

"No way!" he whooped as he grabbed at the wire tie that attached the note to the bicycle. "Mom! Look, Mom!" he unwound the fastener and discovered that it was really an envelope. 

By now, his mother had joined him on the lawn. His tiny fingers fished the note out of the envelope and unfolded it. Alice stood behind her son, resting her hands on his shoulders, and read along with him.

There, in fluid cursive handwriting were these words:

Dear Gary,

Thank you for helping my friends Natalie and Jo. They have both told me what a great young man you are and I look forward to meeting you one day soon.   
  
Jo helped pick out the bike. She said it was just your style. 

Merry Christmas!  
Blair Warner

*********

The flight attendant strolled the aisle of the airliner. The jumbo jet had been aloft for twenty minutes or more. The clouds were below them as the pilot executed a gentle turn and turned the plane due west.

It was December twenty-fourth and there was only a slight change in plans. The ski trip was still on, but they would be staying with Blair's grandparents rather than at the lodge. 

Same mountains. Same ski trails. Just better company and accommodations, mused Jo. She liked the elder Warners. They were so down to earth that she sometimes wondered if Blair could possibly be their grandchild. 

With Grey in custody, the focus of the media had shifted to his exploits and away from her blonde roommate. There were still as few straggling reporters trying to snare exclusive interviews with the girl. She told them she had already selected a reporter and an outlet for her story when she was ready to release it.

That made Natalie grin for days. 

Last night, David and Monica had gathered Bailey, Blair, Jo and her parents together for dinner in the city. It was an opportunity to decompress and just be themselves. 

Normally, that would be a dangerous thing, Jo thought with a smirk. But not this time. No arguments. No fits of temper. Just a lot of food and laughter.

Even Bailey was on her best behavior. Well, if you don't count that wad of pudding she smeared all over her head, she recounted. 

Jo's knee bounced excitedly as she leaned back in the wide, comfortable seat. Not bad, she smirked. This first class thing is all right.

She explored the goodies kept in the back of the seat in front of her. She thumbed through the literature and craned her neck over the high seat backs to locate the nearest exits.

Good to know, she decided after spotting the doors. The brunette listened attentively as the flight attendant explained that the seatbelt light would soon be off. The perky gray haired woman then described the in-flight movie.

Excellent! A Rob Reiner film, thought Jo. She patted out a rhythm on the armrests with her fingertips. "That will be a good one," she mentioned to her friend. 

"Hey, Blair, did you know he's from the Bronx?"

She leaned forward and looked at her roommate who had the seat by the window. The girl had adjusted her seat slightly, crossed her legs and settled in with a novel. 

The corner of the brunette's mouth quirked up at the sight. Somewhere between 'Welcome aboard!' and the ping of the unfasten your seatbelts sign, Blair had fallen asleep.

Jo eased the book out of her friend's hands, closed it quietly and stowed it away. As the attendant passed their seats, she raised a finger to her lips.

"Could I have a blanket, please?" she whispered. The attendant returned with the article and Jo carefully placed it over her tired roommate.

"Can I get you anything else?" asked the older woman quietly. 

"Some headphones?" Jo grinned. "I'd like to watch the movie," she said.

"Coming right up," whispered the attendant.

Moments later, Jo Polniaczek smiled as the screen before them flickered to life. A familiar tune wafted through her headset as she rearranged the blanket over her friend, tucking it into place.

She checked on Blair one last time and then turned her attention to the film. It was about four friends and it detailed the ups and downs of their times together. Jo decided it was one of the better films of 1986.

It was called "Stand By Me."

***************  
Finis  
  
  



End file.
